


Five Times Patrick Had To Hide a Hickey (and one time he didn't bother)

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fluff, Hickeys, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: “I’ll go.” David mumbles the words through swollen lips before ducking through the curtain, tugging his sweater back into place as he goes, and it takes a moment for Patrick to connect the state of David’s mouth to the tingling in his own neck.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 58
Kudos: 240





	Five Times Patrick Had To Hide a Hickey (and one time he didn't bother)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't been able to write anything in over two and a half weeks -- which I realise is nothing, and I shouldn't complain, but it's literally the longest I've gone without writing since joining this fandom in April 2020 and it was starting to really stress me out. So this is just... fluffy nonsense, but it's fluffy nonsense that I WROTE, dammit. Apparently what worked for me was a gimmick, so these are 100, 200, 300, 300, 200, and 100 words exactly. Get wrecked, writer's block 😂

The bell chiming above the door filters through Patrick’s consciousness slowly, his hands flexing in frustration on David’s waist even as David pulls away. 

“I’ll go.” David mumbles the words through swollen lips before ducking through the curtain, tugging his sweater back into place as he goes, and it takes a moment for Patrick to connect the state of David’s mouth to the tingling in his own neck.

“Goddammit, again?” He rifles through the box that arrived from Barbara that morning while waiting for his erection to subside, pulling out a light blue pashmina and wrapping it around his neck.

* * *

It’s early on a slow Wednesday afternoon when their stockroom necking is interrupted not by a customer but by the furious growl of David’s stomach. He pulls away, disgruntled, and Patrick laughs helplessly at the look on his face even as he very unsubtly pushes the heel of his hand to the front of his jeans. David watches the movement, eyes dark, and leans in again just as his stomach gurgles.

“Go get lunch, David.”

David opens his mouth, but clearly thinks better of whatever he was about to say and clamps it shut again. “Fine. Turkey club?”

“Yes, please.” 

David hasn’t been gone long when the bell announces Alexis’ arrival. “Hi Patrick!” She leans over the counter, frowning; before Patrick can back away, she pokes his neck. “Um, you've got a little—”

“Seriously?” He should have realised, but… David is _very_ distracting. He sighs, reaching for the button on his shirt.

“Mm, no need for that. The whole buttoned to the top thing is _so_ not your look.” She bounces over to the makeup section and grabs what Patrick can’t help noticing is their lightest shade of concealer.

By the time David returns, there’s no sign of the bite.

* * *

Being with David is a lot like being a teenager again, except even more uncontrollably turned on than he ever was then. And yes, he’s almost thirty, and a business owner, and yet there’s something wildly thrilling about lying stretched out fully clothed on his bed, David on top of him and pressing lazy kisses along his jaw and down to his neck. They don’t have enough guaranteed privacy to have sex without risking yet another embarrassing interruption, so it’s a little like keeping an ear out for his parents — except in this case the ‘parents’ are actually an overly effusive roommate who doesn’t seem to understand the significance of things like a closed door. 

Still, the brush of David’s hand along his stomach where it’s made its way under Patrick’s shirt is intoxicating, and so is the way he sucks lightly at the spot between Patrick’s neck and shoulder, making Patrick groan and arch up just as the front door slams downstairs. David pulls away, panting, his hair sticking up in all directions, and then he winces as his eyes zero in on Patrick’s neck.

“Fuck, sorry. I got carried away— but that’s no excuse. Sorry. I know you don’t like it.”

Patrick grabs one flailing hand. “David, I _like_ it. I—” He flushes, dropping his gaze to David’s fingers for a moment, lacing them between his own and squeezing gently. “I like it a lot, actually. I just don’t think it’s professional to have them on display at work.”

“Mm.” David nods quickly, tucking a smile behind his teeth. “Well then, you should put toothpaste on that. That will help it fade.”

Patrick blinks. “That actually works?”

“What, you’ve never had to hide a hickey before?”

“Funnily enough, David, this wasn’t actually a problem before I met you.”

* * *

Despite the unfortunate miscommunication over the apartment, David is surprisingly helpful as Patrick’s moving in date approaches — packing his clothes neatly into boxes, procuring some art prints for the walls, making his opinions on the correct furniture for the space firmly known. And when Patrick gets the keys and the first thing he does is take the spare and give it to David along with the speech he prepared about how he wants David to always feel welcome there, the breathtaking, stunned smile he gets in response almost makes the crossed wires worth it.

Everything Patrick owns still fits in his Jetta, even though this move feels so different to the last time he packed all his earthly possessions into the car. He and David spend the one day the store is closed unpacking, slowly making the apartment feel lived in. 

Once that’s done, they spend the evening taking full advantage of a locked door and absolutely no chance of interruption.

When he wakes up the next morning, David is curled around him, snoring softly into Patrick’s shoulder. They’ve had mornings like this before, but this one feels more precious, somehow; almost like the start of something. He lets himself enjoy the casual domesticity of it for just a moment before he nudges David awake, mindful of the time.

David blinks into consciousness slowly, messy and imperfect and so gorgeous it makes Patrick's heart ache. “Morning.” His bleary gaze drops below Patrick’s chin, and then his face pulls into a now familiar wince. “Um, okay, I don’t actually remember doing that.”

Patrick laughs as he pulls himself out of bed, ignoring David’s discontented grumble at losing his body pillow. “Luckily, I remember unpacking this yesterday.”

David’s mouth twists in displeasure. “Turtlenecks are _incorrect.”_

“So is a hickey at work, David.”

* * *

Engagement tears turn into engagement kissing, and engagement kissing turns into engagement frantic groping at each other, and engagement frantic groping at each other turns into engagement rutting up against a tree, the bark scraping into Patrick’s back as he uses both hands and the foot he’s trying to keep his weight off to pull David closer. The borderline desperation in David’s touch and the way David’s teeth scrape along the sensitive skin of his jaw and his neck and his shoulder sees Patrick barreling towards his orgasm far more quickly than he’d like, but he doesn’t have time for embarrassment before David is choking out his name in a sob and trembling as he comes, the two of them still fully dressed.

Patrick knows from the sting on the side of his neck that David has left a mark, even before David pulls away and flushes guiltily.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” David squats down, pulling one of the ice packs out of the bag and holding it up. “Hold that on for a minute.”

By the time they make it back to the car and the voicemails pour in, there’s no trace of a hickey left on Patrick’s skin.

* * *

It’s almost a year after their wedding that they finally take a honeymoon, but something about the trip makes them feel like newlyweds anyway — stripping off in the doorway of their rented cabin and fucking in every room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

The third morning, when they actually decide to go out in public, David bites his lip. “I think I brought some concealer in your shade, hang on—”

“David.” Patrick clears his throat, fighting the blush he knows is creeping up his cheeks. “I— it can stay.”

They don’t end up sightseeing until morning four.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/).


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